The stage Ė a flat empty floor; big empty floor.
The stage Ė a marriage bed.
And hereís this artist, on a marriage bed stage, whispering to the audience,
"Are you awake?"
A little nudge on the shoulder, "Sssst. Are you awake?"
Beautiful audience groaning, "Go away."
Hungry artist running gentle fingers through the hair;
brushing hair away from the deaf, deaf ear
and lips lightly tugging at the lobe.
The audience: "Go to sleep!"
Look at this stage. Itís just a blank slate about
yea wide and yea deep. Big unpainted canvas.
Restless artist hand on the audience heart, wondering,
"How long do I need to feel this pulse?
How long before the palm of my hand sensing the beat of your heart
knows how to open it?"
That hand moving down to the belly, over the navel.
Artist wondering, "If I rest my hand on your stomach
can I figure out what makes you hungry?"
One finger slipping under the waistband.
Thatíd sure wake me up if you did that.
Big empty canvas blank slate stage floor marriage bed.
Persistent artist whispering a wake-up call.
That audience: "Will you let me sleep?
Maybe sometime later this week Iíll feel like it."
Maybe never, too.
Eyes meet in the dark: Angry eyes meet hungry eyes.
The stage; a page; a slate; a canvas; a bed.
Artist wide awake staring at the ceiling,
wondering how to wake it up.
Copyright © 2002 John William Kulm. All Rights Reserved.